


Hello From the Other Side

by lovetheblazer



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, crisscolfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Advent Prompt #3: News reports of either Chris or Darren being in an accident with unknown details; the other learns of the accident via the news and struggles to get more info. Warning for minor injuries, but I can promise a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello From the Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of the Advent Challenge I'm doing daily through Christmas Eve. I'm still accepting prompt submissions through Sunday, so if you've got an idea you'd like me to write, now's your chance; send your prompts [here](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/134229308195/i-decided-to-give-myself-a-bit-of-a-challenge-this).

Chris sighs in relief as he types the last few words of the chapter he's been wrestling with all morning. Out of habit, he saves the document again, though it's not really necessary since he compulsively saves his work every five minutes since the great Microsoft Office crash of 2013 when he lost a solid ten thousand words of progress on his latest novel.

Satisfied with his progress for the day, Chris opens a browser window to reward himself as he usually does after finishing any difficult task: with a quick perusal of social media and a few (okay, more like ten) cat videos on YouTube.

Today, he decides to start with Twitter. He favorites a few tweets from major news outlets with links to longer political articles that look interesting to read later on. He's quickly scrolling through his timeline and mentions when a story at the bottom of the screen catches his eye. _Breaking News: Glee Star in Car Wreck, Story Developing..._

Chris feels his heart stop in his chest. A few years ago, such a story may not have made his whole body seize up in fear like it is now. But having already been through the experience of losing a cast member and dear friend in Cory, Chris no longer has the luxury of assuming the best instead of the worst. His mind quickly flashes through all the people he's worked with over the past six years, people he knows and loves like his own family. One face rises above the rest, though. With shaking fingers, he clicks on the tweet from E!News and follows the link to a story.

There's a momentary lag while the page loads and then Chris is staring at a picture of Darren's headshot. Below it is a grainy image of the mangled wreckage of Darren's car.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Chris is frantically trying to pay his Uber driver and get out of the car simultaneously. In his haste to get to Darren, he winds up practically throwing the signed receipt at the driver as jumps from the backseat. He slams the door behind him and swallows hard as he looks up the looming entrance to the UCLA Emergency Room.

He's so terrified of what he'll find on the other side of those doors that his whole body is practically vibrating with palpable anxiety. It doesn't help that he's been unsuccessful in getting any information about Darren's condition besides the fact that he was taken to UCLA Hospital via ambulance. Even worse, Darren's phone has immediately gone to voicemail every time Chris tried to call it. On top of all that, there's the part where absolutely no one has heard from Darren since the story broke. If Darren was going to call someone en route to the hospital, Chris is pretty sure that he'd be that person. So, the fact that he hasn't heard a peep from Darren scares the shit out of Chris.

Chris pushes open the door before he loses his nerve and enters the chaotic emergency room. He walks up to the front desk where a surly looking nurse sits. “Hi, I'm here to see a patient who was brought in recently after a car accident?” Chris manages, cringing at how high and shaky his voice sounds, even to his own ears.

“Name?” the nurse barks.

“Darren Criss.”

The nurse types something into the computer in front of her. She reads the screen for a moment then glances up at Chris for the first time. “Are you family?”

“No, I'm not, but... I – I'm pretty sure I'm his emergency contact?” Chris presses on. He doesn't feel up to a fight with this already battle-worn nurse, but he absolutely will if that what's necessary to see Darren. Or more realistically, he'd probably have Alla call the hospital, Darren's manager, or both and let them settle it.

“Name?” she grunts.

“Darren Criss, like I said before...”

“No, not _his_. What's _your_ name?”

“Oh, sorry. I'm Chris. Chris Colfer,” he murmurs.

She nods to signal that she's heard him. She types something else into the computer and then nods again at the computer screen. “Yep, I see you now. Hang on, I'll call his nurse and see if he's allowed visitors yet,” she finally tells Chris.

He breathes a massive sigh of relief. “Thank you.” While he waits, he mentally plays back what the nurse's just said. The biggest takeaway message seems to be that Darren is alive. But her saying something about checking to see if he's allowed visitors yet makes Chris wonder if Darren might not be stable or well enough to see him yet and that scares Chris all over again.

He paces back and forth in front of the desk while he watches the nurse speak into the phone in hushed tones that he can't make out. Chris catches her eye as she hangs up the phone. “Someone will be out to talk to you in a second,” she tells him.

Chris searches her tone for any hint of Darren's condition while he waits some more. He stares at the locked double doors that the nurse at the reception desk gestured towards, wondering what he'll find on the other side. He digs his phone out of his pocket and checks his texts and voicemail for the hundredth time, confirming that there's still no news. He's not sure what he was expecting, but _god_ he would give anything to see a stupid text from Darren saying “haha it was all just a prank. Really got you this time, huh?”

Chris startles as the doors fly open suddenly and a young nurse in blue scrubs pokes her head out. She glances over his head at the reception desk, exchanging a meaningful look with the nurse sitting there before she turns back to him, asking, “Are you Chris?”

“Yeah, that's me,” he says, scrambling forward eagerly.

“Come on, I'll take you back to see Darren,” she beckons.

Chris rushes to her side, following her down a long corridor. “Is he... how bad is it?” he manages once he finds his voice.

“Darren? Oh, he should be fine. They're running some tests to be safe, but it looks like it's nothing serious,” she reassures Chris.

“Really?” Chris checks. He should be filled with relief, but he's still strangely uneasy. He doubts he'll feel any better until he can see Darren and confirm what the nurse is saying with his own eyes.

“Really,” she replies, stopping in front of the door to a small room. “But here, why don't we let Darren tell you that himself,” she adds, grabbing the door and holding it open for Chris. “I'll give you two a few minutes of privacy to catch up. Just hit the call button if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Chris murmurs gratefully as he steps inside, hearing the door shut softly behind him.

The lights are low in the room, but Chris can see well enough to tell that Darren's lying in the hospital bed, not looking all that much worse for the wear aside from a few minor scratches. He's immediately comforted by the lack of monitors and medical equipment surrounding Darren, all of which seems to point in the direction of him being okay.

Chris approaches the bed cautiously, not wanting to wake Darren up when he's clearly resting. But even before he can get close enough to touch, Darren shifts on the bed and then he's slowly blinking up at him. “Chris?” he mumbles sleepily.

“Hey, I'm here, honey,” Chris breathes, eyes welling up unexpectedly. “Are you–”

“I'm fine, totally fine,” Darren interrupts in his haste to soothe Chris. He pushes up to a sitting position with a quiet groan and immediately reaches for him. “Come here,” he requests of Chris.

Chris steps forward hesitantly, scared he might hurt Darren inadvertently.

Darren pats the bed next to him. “I'm not going to break, Chris. It's okay.” That's all the additional reassurance he needs to gingerly sit down on the edge of Darren's bed and wrap him in his arms.

“How did you know?” Darren murmurs into Chris's neck as he holds on for dear life.

“It was all over Twitter. They even had a picture of your wrecked car on E!News,” Chris whispers, fighting back tears.

“Of course they did,” Darren sighs heavily. “God, I'm sorry. That must have been awful for you.”

“Why didn't you call me?” Chris sniffles. “I was so worried.”

“I wanted to, but my phone got smashed in the accident. It wouldn't even turn on. And I asked my nurse if I could borrow a phone once I got here, but then they decided they wanted to take me for a CAT scan first and that took forever and... well, now you're here,” Darren rambles.

“Wait, you had to get a CAT scan?” Chris says, pulling back so he can see Darren's face. “You hit your head?”

“Technically yes, but barely. They're just being extra careful, probably so I won't sue them later,” Darren says, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

It's a familiar Darren misdirection technique, one Chris has seen him employ a hundred times before. It doesn't work on him this time, though, not when Chris already has so much pent up worry and anxiety just looking for a new home. Instead of listening to Darren's protestations to the contrary, Chris does his own survey, starting at Darren's face and working his way down. “You have an IV,” he notices for the first time, fear only growing.

“Yeah well, paramedics love needles almost as much as I hate them. They kind of insisted, though I have no idea why,” Darren grumbles.

“Show me,” Chris demands.

“Show you what, exactly?” Darren wonders aloud.

“Where you hit your head.”

“Chris _seriously_ , I'm fine. You don't need to get all worked up over it, okay?” Darren insists.

“Too late. Show me now or I'm calling your mother to come worry over you instead. I'm sure she'll be a hundred times worse than me,” Chris practically growls. It would be a lot more convincing if his hands weren't still shaking and he wasn't on the verge of tears, but he does what he can to look determined and scary rather than what he actually is: scared shitless.

“Damn, busting out the big guns already,” Darren groans. He turns his face towards the wall and his fingers trace a spot above his left ear. “Right here.”

Chris flips the switch for one of the brighter overhead lights behind Darren's bed. Then, he reaches out and gently parts Darren's hair out of the way. “Okay, let me see,” he says as he brushes against Darren's fingers and gingerly prods at an egg-shaped lump. Darren hisses the second he touches his skull. “Sorry, sorry sweetheart, did I hurt you?” he apologizes.

“It's fine. Just sore,” Darren promises. “Did you see what you needed to see?”

“I guess,” Chris sighs. He starts to remove his hand but stops suddenly when he notices something else. “Wait, you had to get stitches?”

“Um... yeah?” Darren replies sheepishly. “Just a few where I banged my head.”

“So, when you said you were fine, you meant... what? That you weren't on full life support? Nothing about this is screaming fine to me, Darren,” Chris scolds, eyes prickling with unshed tears.

Darren opens his mouth to protest, but stops when he sees Chris's face. “C'mon Chris, don't cry. Everything is going to be okay. I'm _fine_ ,” he repeats.

“Sure, that's why you had to be transported to the hospital via ambulance and why the second you arrived they were whisking you off for stitches and a CAT scan,” Chris sniffles.

“There was no whisking,” Darren tries to joke. “Like my nurse told me, pretty much anyone who bumps their head hard enough to need stitches winds up getting a CAT scan, but it's just a liability thing.”

“Did you pass out?” Chris wonders, not sure if he'll like the answer.

“No, definitely not. One second I was thinking, 'Ooh, Adele's on the radio. I need to turn this shit up' and the next my car was all crumpled and smoking and I was sitting on the side of the road thinking, 'Wow, that was dumb, Chris is going to kill me when he finds out that I literally wrecked my car because I was grooving too hard to Adele.' So yeah, I was definitely conscious for the whole embarrassing experience,” Darren tells him.

Chris lets out a muffled squeak, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Darren laughs along with him and then grabs a handful of tissues from the box on the tray table and offers them to him. “Kleenex?”

Chris accepts the tissues gratefully and blows his nose. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Feeling a little better now?” Darren inquires.

The question brings Chris crashing back down to earth, reminding him of all the things he's meant to be worrying about, namely Darren's health. “Even if you didn't lose consciousness, you could still have a serious head injury. That's what Liam Neeson's wife died from. Just a tiny bump on the head while she was skiing and then boom, six or seven hours later she was gone.” Chris worries his lower lip between his teeth, stomach fluttering with concern. Even if Darren's right and he is going to be fine, things still could have gone in such a different way. That one tiny thought is likely to plague Chris's nightmares for days, if not weeks to come.

“I wasn't skiing, Chris. And I don't have a serious head injury,” Darren sighs.

“Concussions _are_ serious, Darren. I figured as a football fan, you'd know the devastating lifelong consequences that even one bad hit can cause,” he scolds.

“Okay come on, now you're just being ridiculous,” Darren insists. “I don't have a concussion.”

“You don't? They've already given you the results of the CAT scan?” Chris immediately perks up.

“Well no, not exactly,” Darren admits. “But I just... _don't_. I think I'd know if I had a concussion?”

“That's... not how head injuries work at all, Darren. Let's leave the diagnoses to medical experts, okay?”

“I happen to agree with you there, Chris. Have you gotten any medical degrees since the last time I saw you?” Darren gently teases.

“No, but...” he starts to protest.

“Exactly,” Darren points out. “How about we let the doctor tell us what we do and don’t need to worry about vis-à-vis my nonexistent head injury and you get back over here and give me another hug instead, okay?”

Chris shakes his head.

“No?” Darren asks. “Not okay? No more hugs for poor, hurt Darren?” He shoots Chris his best wounded puppy dog eyes, laying it on thick.

“You should probably lay down, that's all. You were resting when I came in and after a concussion, that's really important,” Chris tries to explain, badly.

“I don't have a concussion, Chris,” Darren groans, his patience clearly reaching its limits. “I wasn't even resting under medical advice. I was just bored, that's all. I figured I'd try to take a quick nap while I waited for the nurse to come back and loan me a phone so I could call you.”

“I know you don't think you have a concussion, but until the doctor comes and tells me that himself, I'm still going to worry. Now will you please just lay down?” Chris all but begs.

“There's literally nothing I can do to make you stop freaking out in the meantime?” Darren sighs.

“Uh, the only thing that you could theoretically do is go back in time twelve hours so that this accident never happened, so...” Chris shrugs, unmoved.

“Or maybe I should just flag down my nurse and see if she could hook you up with some Xanax or maybe even shoot you with a tranquilizer dart like the ones they use at the zoo,” Darren jokes.

“I think there's probably an insult in there somewhere but I'm too stressed and exhausted to try to find it,” Chris grumbles.

“Don't be stressed, at least not on my behalf,” Darren requests.

“You know what you could do to help with that?” Chris admonishes.

“What?”

“Lay the fuck down. _Please_ , even if you think it's stupid, just do it for me, okay?” Chris pleads.

“Alright, alright,” Darren sighs, holding up his hands in surrender. He carefully lowers himself back onto the bed, settling his head on the pillow. “There, happy now?”

“Not quite, but it's a start,” Chris says gratefully.

“Now can I have my hug?” Darren pouts.

“Sure,” Chris agrees easily.

“Actually, hold that thought. Since you are so obsessed with me being horizontal at the moment (and not the fun kind of horizontal, either), how about you join me instead?” Darren beckons, patting the small sliver of space between his body and the bedrails.

“It's a nice idea, but I'm not going to fit, baby,” Chris replies.

“Are you kidding me? I'm tiny as fuck. We'll fit,” Darren insists, tugging Chris down.

Chris rolls his eyes as he watches Darren scoot over and make room for him. He winds up with half of his lower body hanging off the bed at first, but then Darren props up on one arm and pulls Chris towards the right side of the bed, before resettling his head on Chris's chest. “Told you,” he smirks.

“I'm pretty sure half of my body is still dangling off the bed, but as long as you're comfortable, I'm good,” Chris whispers, brushing a fallen curl from Darren's temple.

“I'm very comfortable,” he reports happily.

“Glad to hear it." Chris presses a kiss to Darren's forehead. "So, you really totaled your car because you were too busy dancing to Adele to pay attention to the road?”

“Uh, yes. Oops?” Darren manages.

“On the one hand, I want to yell at you because hello, you could have been _killed._ But on the other hand, I really can't fault your taste in music. If you'd nearly killed yourself grooving to Katy Perry, I might have kicked your ass. But for Adele? Slightly more justifiable,” Chris tells Darren, cracking a smile for the first time since he arrived at the hospital.

“I was just thinking the other day, 'gee, what slobbering fanboy story can I tell Adele when I finally get to meet her one day that encompasses my creepy obsession with her music?’ I kept coming up short, sadly, but now I’ve got just the right tale of woe to share, muahaha,” Darren reports gleefully, feigning evil laughter.

“You’re such a dork. But we should probably wait until you are out of the hospital before you tweet that story at her, alright?” Chris hums agreeably.

“Do we have to?” Darren mock whines.

“I’m going to have to insist. Nap now, story later,” Chris mumbles.

“Sounds like a plan,” Darren whispers, nuzzling his face into the crook of Chris’s neck just like he’s done hundreds of times before.

“Hey, so that thing I didn’t say earlier,” Chris blurts out, suddenly veering back into pensive. “You know how much I–”

“Love you too,” Darren interjects. “Now shut up so I can nap. It’s supposed to be good for faux concussions, at least according to my boyfriend who pretends he’s a doctor sometimes.”

Chris debates on flipping Darren off, but it somehow feels like a lot of effort and he’s absolutely exhausted. Besides, he decides, they’ve got all the time in the world. It can wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Share fic on Tumblr](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/134511116180/hello-from-the-other-side)
> 
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> Read Previous Advent Fics on: [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Advent_Fics_by_lovetheblazer) or [Tumblr](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/tagged/advent-fics-by-lovetheblazer)


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